


Rule Number One

by almaruth



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, BAMF Tony, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaruth/pseuds/almaruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU take on Singled Out. Gibbs returns, and the team isn't quite as pleased as he thought they'd be. Ziva and McGee stand up for Tony, and the Probie grows a backbone. In the background, there is a case, and the director is doing something nefarious. </p><p>WIP; also getting an overhaul as I post to AAO3 from FF. And my muse is flighty, so you know, if there's anything you want to see, let me know!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony’s gut – _gone gone Gibbs is gone_ – was acting up. Everyone should be physically fine, though after Friday’s fiasco, he should probably just have ordered black roses to be delivered to Abby’s lab on principle.  Maybe she wouldn’t need them? _Right, DiNozzo. Cause that’s how your luck is running these days._ As he passed through security, he saw Ziva and McGee getting on the elevator. Ziva looked up, and stuck her hand in the closing doors, giving him just enough time to slide inside with the breakfast he’d bought for the team. Bribery? Yeah, but these days, Tony would take what good will he could get.

He masked his once over of his agents – _my agents my team mine to protect –_ by giving Ziva an exaggerated leer. Judging from McGee’s eye-roll, he’d been successful with one of his agents, though Ziva’s soft smile suggested that she knew exactly what he was doing, and even appreciated his care. No gut needed on this elevator at least. Ducky would be pissed at Gibbs, but not any more shook-up by his longtime friends’ reappearance and re-disappearance. Was that even a word? Well. He’d go check on him anyway, once the team was settled. Maybe something was up with his probie? McGee would probably deal with it, if that was the problem, but it wouldn’t hurt for Tony to check up on her either. The Director? He considered it for a moment, and then mentally shook his head. She was his Director, and of course he’d do his duty, take her orders, but he didn’t like the way she manipulated them – so maybe it _was_ related to the Director, tangentially at least.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened to the bullpen. Tony shook himself, the sensation not disappearing. Something was wrong. And then he stepped into the MCRT’s section. And stopped. _Nonononono. No. Not like this._ Gibbs was sitting at his old desk, Tony’s desk now. Tony’s stuff was piled on his old desk, McGee’s desk now. Ziva’s had been left alone, but McGee’s stuff was on the Probie’s desk. And the Probie was standing there, pile of files in her hands, looking as shocked and confused as Tony felt. _Well, folks. Let’s see if they still respect me now that Gibbs is back. Not my boss. Not anymore. Not their boss, either. Left us left us leftus._

“I need your reports from Friday,” Tony said mildly. “You should all have the initial write up done, but I need the final reports by noon. Probie, just shift that to the floor for now. I’ll figure out what to do with it while you write.” Lee set the files down, and began to clear a space in front of her computer where she could work. Tony looked at the mess that was his bullpen – _HIS bullpen, thank you very much_ – and wondered what exactly the protocol was in a situation like this.

McGee looked at Tony briefly, and frowned. He walked over to Gibbs, and stood there for a moment, looking down at him. “You’re sitting at my boss’s desk,” he said plainly. “That’s rude. If you wanted to speak to him, you could have called.”

Ziva joined McGee in front of Gibbs’ desk. “I am grateful that you came to help me with the FBI. But you left again. You are no longer our boss. To treat my boss in this manner, as though the work he has done means nothing, is disrespectful. You taught me your rules, and the one that has been most important is ‘Do not screw over your partner’. What was Tony if not your partner? Is he not our partner? Did you think that we would allow you to screw him over?”

McGee spoke again, glancing back at Tony. Tony couldn’t read the expression on his face as he turned back to Gibbs. “But if you are here to tell me that Tony is no longer my boss, and that I am no longer his senior field agent, then say it. Don’t dump the contents of our desks where you think they should go. Of course, if you are saying that, I am notifying you now that I will be requesting a transfer to a team that recognizes the worth of all of its agents. Hell,” and as shocked as Tony was to hear even-keeled McGee swear, he was more shocked to note the anger flushing up McGee’s neck as he spoke, “maybe I’ll transfer to the FBI. At least then I’ll know what I can expect.”

Ziva smiled at McGee, and looked back at Tony, who stood staring at them, mouth open. “Tony,” she said, “close your mouth before you catch a fly. What we are saying, Gibbs, is that you left. Tony stayed. He has had our sixes since you left, and before. We are glad that you have come back to DC, and even to NCIS. But you are no longer our boss.”

Gibbs looked stunned, almost as stunned as Tony felt. Agent Lee spoke into the silence, “And what did you expect me to do, _sir_? Slink back to Legal with my tail between my legs, happy to have had a chance to be a field agent? With all due respect, sir, stick it.” Lee looked like she might faint, but Tony, McGee, and Ziva were all staring at her approvingly. _Clearly_ , Tony thought _she was listening to our stories – calling a gunnery sergeant sir is like calling him a jackass, and that emphasis . . . and it was McGee who told the Deputy Secretary of Defense to stick it when I was undercover with White. Good girl. We’ll make a field agent out of you yet._

“Probie!” McGee smiled. “You grew a backbone!” Lee blushed as Ziva nodded.

Gibbs looked at his former team, McGee and Ziva clearly protecting Tony from him, watching their boss’s six even in the bullpen, their Probie standing up to him, and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Ziva slipped around the side of the desk to lean menacingly over him. “You,” she said clearly, “are sitting at my boss’ desk, preventing him from working. Move.”

“No,” Gibbs growled, confusion visibly turning to anger. “This is my desk, and my team.” He didn’t look at Tony when he turned back to his papers. And Tony was twelve again, being left behind in the Maui Hilton, waiting patiently for a father who never came.

“No, Gibbs,” said McGee, quietly, but with more strength than Tony had ever heard before. “We’re not your team. You left us – I get that you had a lot to sort out. But you left us, left Tony. We are his team. DiNozzo’s my boss, Lee’s my probie. It’s my job now to stay on Tony’s six, to protect him when he runs into danger to keep the rest of us out of it. You taught us loyalty, and we learned. But we will not give it where trust has been broken.” He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to say more, looked over his shoulder at Tony, sighed, and subsided. And Tony wasn’t twelve anymore; he had a team, _family_ , who stood with him, even protected him from wounds he refused to acknowledge.

“Go, Gibbs. Find another team. We are yours no longer. I killed my brother to save your life, and I will always owe you for saying you made that shot. But I came here to escape from a father who acknowledged me only when I was useful, a father whose approval I spent my whole life trying to gain. What is the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. I made a family here, with a father who gruffly had my six even when he did not know me, but when _his_ crisis came, he left us. Fool me twice, shame on me. I will not be fooled a third time,” Ziva spoke quietly, face blank. “How could any of us trust you to have our six in the field when you did not trust us to have yours?”

Gibbs was saved from responding when Tony’s cell rang, shattering the silence that grew after Ziva’s soft-spoken question. “DiNozzo!” Tony greeted, and then fell silent, listening. “Of course. We’ll be right on it.” He hung up, and turned to Ziva, McGee, and Lee. “That was dispatch. Gear up.”

And in the hustle of movement on the way out of the bullpen, he didn’t look at Gibbs once.


	2. In Which Palmer and Ziva Think Deep Thoughts

Jimmy Palmer looked up from filling out the requisition forms for Autopsy when the phone rang. He moved to pick it up, but sat back when Dr. Mallard answered. “Autopsy, Dr. Mallard speaking. Yes, yes of course Anthony. We’ll be there. Perhaps you could send directions to Mr. Palmer? He does seem to get lost quite often. It reminds me of a young lad I once – ah. Of course. Yes, I will tell you the story another time dear boy.”

As Dr. Mallard finished up the conversation with Tony, Jimmy started gathering the supplies not kept in the truck. As he turned to grab the kit, his cell phone chirped. Pulling it out, he stared at the name on the screen. Michelle? Why was she texting him at work, unless it was work related – maybe Tony had a cold he and Ducky needed to nip in the bud? He flipped the phone open to read the text. His jaw dropped as he read the short text. “Gibbs back. Ziva and McGee stood up for Tony. Tell Ducky please?”

“Mr. Palmer,” Ducky was staring at him, “whatever is the matter?”

Jimmy shook his head for a moment, and then spoke. “Agent Gibbs is back. Mich – I mean, Agent Lee just texted me. He came back. Ziva and McGee stood up for Tony – I don’t know why they needed to. She wanted me to tell you.” Jimmy had a pretty good idea of why they needed to stand up for Tony, in fact, but he tried not to assume anything about the team; they tended to do very surprising things. _I may have grown closer to Tony since Gibbs left, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand the team’s relationship. I think Ducky once said something about siblings, only that’s just . . .hinky with the sexual tension between Tony and Ziva. If Gibbs is back and they had to stick up for him, maybe I should have dinner with Tony sooner than Thursday. He’ll see right through it but if I play it right, he won’t mind._

Ducky shook his head, looking as confused as Jimmy felt, though with a whole helping more of disappointment. Jimmy was pretty sure _that_ was aimed at Gibbs, though maybe a side dish was reserved for Madam Director. He was pretty sure she was trying to manipulate Tony into something, though he wasn’t sure what. But if she wouldn’t ask him straight out, then clearly it wasn’t all above board. He put it out of his head for the moment; he wasn’t going to get anywhere on that topic now (and he hadn’t been getting anywhere with Tony on the topic either). “So what’s the case, Doctor?”

Ducky smiled a little. “A young man in uniform with no id was found in Rock Creek Park. Preliminary cause of death is a gunshot wound, though Anthony did not mention where the poor man had been shot. He said he would send you directions, perhaps you could print them off before we go?”

Jimmy chuckled as his phone chirped again. “No need, Doctor. He’s sending me step-by-step instructions – the first one says ‘Leave Autopsy and get in the van. Take a left out of the garage. That means turn toward the driver’s door.’ I think we’ll be just fine this time.”

As they drove toward the crime scene, Ducky rambled on about something – Jimmy was tuning him out while he pondered his friend’s dilemma. _What can I do to help? At least McGee and Ziva stood up for him. I wonder if Abby would pull the security footage of the bullpen – oh God. Abby. Has anyone even talked to her about this? Will Gibbs even think to visit her in the lab? Not my problem. Except it is, because it’ll be Tony’s problem. Abby will tell him he’s “not Gibbs,” and Tony will shut down. Again. I know she doesn’t know what it does to him when she says that, but she’s an adult! She should know better. Argh! Not thinking about Abby and her reaction. I’ll ask Tony if he wants to go out for dinner and a drink. Is there a game tonight? That might distract him . . . or we could catch a movie, though picking a movie for Tony is an experience I’d like to NOT repeat. So. Goals: get the details of what went down in the bullpen, gauge Abby’s reaction, and ask Tony to hang out tonight – or soon. I can do this._ Tuning back in to Ducky, Jimmy was alarmed to hear him making a comment about a “young man I once knew whose commanding officer left him in charge of a fiercely loyal unit.”  It was one thing to tell a story like that with Jimmy as the sole audience, but in front of Tony, it would not go over so well. In fact, Jimmy could picture the way Tony would tense minutely if he heard Ducky now, his shoulders just a fraction higher.  He did not need to be reminded of what Gibbs had done.

“Uh, Doctor? Maybe it would be best if you didn’t mention that story around Tony. He won’t want to talk about it, especially at a crime scene, and if we push now, he’ll never talk.” Jimmy glanced over at Ducky to see him look startled, and then slightly approving.

“Well said, my dear boy. You are correct. Perhaps after the others go home I can invite him down for a cup of tea. . .” and Ducky was off again. Tony once told him that Gerald, Ducky’s previous assistant, had often listened to music, or sports games while working with Ducky, and that it hadn’t really seemed to bother the good Doctor at all. Maybe he should invest in a good music player – and an even better protective case. With his luck, he’d drop it in a cadaver the first time he brought it to work.

As they pulled up next to the NCIS truck, Jimmy forcefully set his thoughts aside. While he might not talk to the dead like Dr. Mallard, he agreed with him completely that the dead deserved just as much respect as the living. Now was not the time to worry about things that couldn’t immediately be solved.

* * *

Ziva glanced over at where Tony was standing, interviewing the hiker who’d found the body. He was wearing what she privately referred to as his “perfect agent” mask – dedicated, focused, intense, just the right amount of forceful – and not that Tony was not all those things every day. It was just that usually his masks covered up the man she knew would never cross over the line between right and wrong. Tony, Ziva thought, had the strictest sense of right and wrong of anyone she had ever met.  _In one of Tony’s movies, one of the characters said that another was “a good police.” Tony is a good police, but he wears so many masks everyone forgets.  I cannot blame him. My mask is, as Tony calls it, the crazy ninja chick, and people forget I have emotions. Gibbs has set the fox in the chick house. In the bird house? Gibbs has upset what little balance Tony gained for us._ She set the marker kit down with more force than strictly necessary, and Tony glanced back at her, one eyebrow up. ‘ _Need anything?’_ Ziva shook her head slightly and grinned. ‘ _No boss. Sorry.’_

McGee looked up from where he was sketching the scene. “Ziva?”

“Yes, McGee?”

He swallowed, looking more nervous than usual. Ziva thought she and Tony had teased that out of him. “Do you think . . .” he trailed off, looking more nervous. “I just think we’ve been hard on him. He didn’t expect us to stand up for him! How could he not . . . Anyway, I was thinking that we could have a team dinner?”

Ziva flinched slightly. Her team dinner was one of the cruelest things she’d ever done to Tony, and she would always regret it. But McGee had a point. A team dinner would do all of them good. “Tony thinking we would desert him will not be fixed by one dinner. I think it is a good idea. We have been hard on him, and sometimes it was teasing and sometimes we meant it, but I do not think he could always tell the difference.” Calling Tony insufferable in front of Gibbs and watching betrayal flash across his face before the joker mask came up, and praise from Gibbs that did not wipe the betrayal out of his eyes.

“Right,” McGee said, face shuttered with his own painful memories, “team dinner. I’ll invite Abby and Lee, if you’ll speak to Ducky and Palmer. And we can invite Tony together, once everyone else agrees. Wednesday night? Or once the case closes?”

Ziva nodded. “Wednesday, I think. The case could drag on for too long.” She paused, and then asked, “McGee, the fox is in the birdhouse?”

He looked up again to stare at her for a moment, and then laughed. “In the henhouse, Ziva. The fox is in the henhouse.”

She grumbled under her breath about stupid American idioms, but kept her head down so he wouldn’t see her grin. McGee looked far less troubled now. As she worked on setting out markers next to evidence, the probie crouched down to help her. Ziva knew she terrified Lee, and she almost felt bad about it – except she knew Lee needed to toughen up a bit, learn to think outside the box. She was worse than McGee was when she had started with NCIS, and McGee had the excuse of just having lost a partner, and nearly lost the other. Actually, now that Ziva thought about it, all of them had nearly died in the weeks immediately prior to her arrival. No wonder McGee had been so timid.

“Office David?”

“Call me Ziva, Lee,” she responded. Maybe first names would help? No, she still looked scared.

Lee cleared her throat, “I was thinking that, since you are friends with the Director, maybe you could see if she would tell you what the hell she was thinking?”

Ziva felt as surprised at her language as Lee looked, though she was certain it did not show on her face that clearly. _I guess all we needed to do to grow her backbone was threaten the team._ “That is a good suggestion, Lee. I will see if I can get any information from her. I am unsure if she will tell me anything; her relationship with Gibbs is longer than hers with me.”

Lee looked startled, and then grinned slightly. It was startlingly close to a smirk. “I know you don’t think much of my legal skills, but if she doesn’t back down on replacing Tony, I could probably make a case to SecNav of favoritism based on a previous relationship. A previous relationship with her direct supervisor, who would now be her direct subordinate. Something along the lines of ‘Despite Agent DiNozzo’s excellent record as team lead, and his teams’ disinterest in having him replaced, Director Sheppard seems convinced that Agent Gibbs should replace him, demoting Agents DiNozzo and McGee, and sending Probationary Agent Lee back to Legal. Agent Gibbs and Director Sheppard were in a relationship when he was her team lead, and it is apparent to the office that she is very interested in continuing that relationship.’ It might help.”

Ziva stared at her for a moment. _What happened to the meek probie? Where did she go?_ “Thank you, Michelle. I will let you know if that is necessary. McGee could probably help us if we need to go that road.”

He looked up as she spoke his name, clearly having been listening in. “Way to go, Probie! That’s the type of thinking we’ve been trying to get you to do!”

“Are you corrupting my probie, McGee?” Tony grinned as they all looked up, startled. “What plans are you hatching over here?”

They all tried to speak at once, but McGee and Lee nodded at Ziva to continue. “We are planning to bring down the Director with the help of Lee’s legal skills, McGee’s hacking skills, and my skills in interrogation and intimidation.”

Tony raised a single eyebrow in her direction. “Well, Zee-va! You certainly don’t dream small. Back to the case. Tell me what you got.”

Relieved that Tony wasn’t going to press it, Ziva began her report. “I cannot tell you much about the body until Ducky gets here, but a preliminary viewing suggests that the victim was killed with a gunshot wound to the head. I cordoned off the area where the bullet might have ended up, as there is an exit wound. I will need help to do a full search for the bullet; the casing is not here. The victim struggled with the perpetrator, but there are no signs of struggle on the ground.  There are two sets of footprints headed toward the victim, and two away, and I have marked those. There is a third set belonging to an injured party by the way they drag, and I have marked those as well. The clearing is otherwise clear of evidence, Boss.” Ziva finished her report, and looked back at Tony. He was staring at the crime scene in contemplation, but turned back to her when she finished.

“Nice job, Ziva. Probie: murder scene or body dump?” Tony gave praise much more easily than Gibbs, and Ziva appreciated it. Tony had taught her almost everything she knew about being an investigator, and his praise in this area was important. She knew that she still had a long way to go before she was anywhere near his skills, but she tried to pay close attention to what he did at a crime scene – without, of course, letting him know she was modeling herself after him!

Glancing at the blood underneath the victim’s head, Lee answered, “Boss, I think this is about half a crime scene. Well, no. I mean, it is a crime scene but.” Lee paused and took a breath. “The shooting took place here, but I agree with Ziva. The victim struggled, as evidenced by his knuckles, and his bruises, but it wasn’t here. So, it’s a murder-scene, but we’re missing another scene?”

McGee chimed in, “It’s almost like the perp wanted the body found quickly. We’re only about ten feet off a popular hiking trail here.”

Tony nodded, looking distracted. “Has anyone heard from Ducky? I thought they’d be here by now.”

Ziva shrugged. “I can go back to where we parked the van to wait for them, Tony. It is not a problem.”

He nodded again, and Ziva left. As she hiked back, her thoughts returned to the bullpen, and she grew angry. _Who does he think he is, to barge back in here like that? I said I had been abandoned by fathers twice, but I am not the only one. Gibbs is – was, maybe – Tony’s big brother and father rolled into one. My dossier on Tony was as complete as Mossad could make it, but I know there are pieces missing. Hawai’i was not the first place Tony’s father forgot him, it was just the longest. Tony could, and even now will forgive Gibbs for leaving like that because he is Tony and he has always kept the peace between us and Gibbs, always deflected his anger. He will probably even forgive him for returning like this, eventually. I cannot. Tony does not think he is worth fighting for. He will be angry because Gibbs left and hurt Abby, because he came back and hurt me, because he demoted McGee rudely and kicked Lee off the team, but he will not be angry at Gibbs for leaving him, for demoting him, for only saying ‘You’ll do’._  Ziva’s muscles were tense, and she found herself falling into a walk that she tried not to use here; stealthy and sly, full of power and grace. When Tony called her the ninja chick, it was a gentle reminder she did not need to be deadly here, with these people. She knew the others thought she had a potential for deadliness, for violence, but Tony knew it. He knew it because, although she’d never truly seen it, Ziva was certain he carried that same deadliness in himself. He played it off with the play-boy mask, the joker, the clown, and McGee and Lee could not see through it. _Gibbs used to see through those masks, but he doesn’t anymore. Has not since he got blown up. I think this is what I am most angry about. Tony is maybe the best of us, and he is the best undercover operative I have ever met. He lets me see through the masks so I know I am not alone in this. If he did not want me to see through them, I would not know they were there. Gibbs knew this, used this, appreciated it, but he does not remember now. If he did, he would not have demoted Tony like he did. Or tried to. Tony isn’t demoted until he hears it from the Director. Lee was right; I need to speak with her._

Ziva’s musings carried her all the way back to the trucks, where Ducky and Palmer were pulling supplies out. “Ah! Ziva! Would you be a dear and help Mr. Palmer and myself carry this out to the scene? We did not get lost once; Mr. Palmer did an excellent job navigating. I must congratulate Anthony on his directions.”

Palmer rolled his eyes in Ziva’s direction. She smiled, and answered Ducky. “Of course I will help you. Tony was beginning to get worried that his directions did not solve the problem and sent me to wait for you.”

She and Palmer picked up the gurney, and they set off back down the trail. Ziva considered filling them in on the crime scene, but decided that could wait. “Ducky, McGee and I thought we should have another team dinner. Maybe you have a suggestion for where we could eat? Palmer, you are invited as well.”

Ducky glanced at Ziva, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “I assume Anthony is to be invited as well?”

“Yes, Ducky. I have always felt terrible about that. McGee and I thought we might have an easier time convincing him to join us if everyone else was going to be there as well. McGee is asking Lee and Abby.” Ziva smiled at Ducky to let him know there were no hard feelings. “Palmer, what about you?”

He grinned at her. “I’m in. I was already planning on taking Tony out tonight. I mean, not out out. Just dinner and drinks. As friends, I mean.”

Ziva laughed. “Yes, Palmer, I know what you mean. I will not bite if you talk to me. You do not need to be tripping over your words always.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Officer David, I was wondering – Michelle texted me that Gibbs was back. What happened in the bullpen this morning?”

Ziva scowled and her body tensed up again. “Gibbs returned. And moved everyone’s things to their previous desks, without notifying us, or asking Tony. Tony told Lee to move the stuff off her desk and sit down, and asked the rest of us to write up our reports. Gibbs did not move. To save Tony from having to ask him to do so, McGee and I pointed out that he was being rude, and should move. McGee threatened to transfer to the FBI if Gibbs was truly demoting them like that. I asked him how he expected us to trust that he had our six, when he would not trust us to have his.” She shook her head. “I am sorry, Ducky. I know he is your friend, but I cannot believe that he could do this to us, or to Tony.”

Ducky shook his head. “Jethro may be a friend of mine, my dear, but that does not excuse his behavior. I am afraid we will all be in for a bit of a rough ride while he finds his stride, and our Anthony will bear the brunt of it. It will, I think, hurt him the most, but he will also work tirelessly to keep Jethro from hurting the rest of us, no matter his feelings.”

Palmer burst out, “If you all would stop comparing him to Gibbs, it would help! He thought you all wanted him back. Abby is the worst, with her picture wall and ‘training’ Tony, but none of you have made this easier for him.” He cut himself off, and glanced at Ziva apprehensively.

Ziva wanted to shout at Palmer, but only because he was right – and she knew it. They _had_ treated Tony terribly. “You are right, Palmer. It is why we want to take him to dinner as a team. We were wrong, and we know it, but we cannot change that now. All we can do is do better in the future.” _I apologize, Tony. You are not Gibbs, but it is a good thing. I should have told you the second part as well. I will make it up to you._


	3. In Which Abby Cries

Abby was nodding her head in time to the music blasting in the lab when Tony texted her to let her know they were going out on a case. Which seemed normal, until Tim texted her to tell her to be extra nice to Tony today, which was hinky. Whatever happened happened right after everyone arrived for work. A quick Google check of “DiNozzo” turned up nothing, so Daddy DiNozzo hadn’t kicked the bucket, unfortunately, in Abby’s (not so) humble opinion. A quick review of Peoria, Philly, and Baltimore turned up no dead cops, which was always good. Family is okay, no dead cops from Tony-boy’s past . . . Abby turned to check her “Keep Tony Safe” list, consisting of bad guys he’d put away and when they came up for parole. None of the ones who were up for parole were any threat, nor had their cases been particularly bad. Tony might not talk much about his past – oh, Abby had heard plenty about Ohio State, and his frat-buddies, but he sure didn’t open up much about the stuff that really mattered – but she’d picked through the pieces and she could figure out for herself which cases really bothered him. She glanced up at the wall of pictures of Gibbs, and shook her head. _Shouldn’t have left us, boss-man. Who’s he gonna let look after him now?_

Major Mass Spec dinged, and Abby clomped over to look at the results. She heard the rattle of ice in a plastic cup, and said “Thanks! Kinda early for a Caff-Pow!, though. Just set it on my desk, please?”

“You sure that’s where you want it, Abs?” There was no mistaking that voice. Abby jumped, and spun around, lab coat fanning out to her sides.

“Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs! You came to visit me! And you brought me a Caff-Pow! Right when Major Mass Spec dinged! It wasn’t even your case!” She flung herself at him, reveling in the hug. Stepping back, she looked him over. “Nice ‘stache there, Gibbs. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a tequila vacation? Not that I want you to leave! You should totally stay here now that you’re here. I mean in D.C. You are back, right?”

“Maybe, Abs, maybe.” One look at his face made Abby’s stomach sink. ‘Be extra nice to Tony, Abby. Rough morning,’ echoed in her head. Gibbs showing up, looking confused about coming back . . . _Oh Gibbs. What did you do?_

“What did you do to him? Did you make him upset, Gibbs? ‘Cause Tony’s been really good to us since you left. Toned down the playboy and the jokester, made sure we were okay. Except no one made sure he was okay. You were the only one who could ever get him to really talk before, and then you left, and now you’re back, but maybe not, and Gibbs! What did you do?”

He ducked his head a little, and said gruffly, “What makes you think I did something? Maybe its DiNozzo’s fault I’m not sure if I’ll come back.”

“Gibbs! Not funny. What did you do?” Abby demanded, heart now sinking down to spend some quality time with her stomach. _Tony-boy! I’ll give you an extra big hug. Just don’t leave us!_

He glared at her, but Abby stood her ground. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he’d hurt her Tony, which wasn’t allowed. “Thought you all needed me. Sure sounded like it last time I was here. Guess not.”

And Abby could guess what had gone down upstairs, and she thought her heart might burst with pride for McGee and Ziva, but she had to deal with Gibbs first. “Of course we need you, Gibbs! Don’t be stupid. You’re Gibbs, the boss-man, the papa-bear –“

He cut her off. “Not my team anymore, Abby. You all have made that very clear to me.” And with that, he turned and walked out of her lab, leaving the Caff-Pow! on her desk.

She stared at the door, anger and confusion warring with hurt. _Maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so accusatory. But he sure overreacted just now. I wish Ducky wasn’t out at the crime scene. I could use some wisdom. Of course I’m glad Gibbs is back. I just don’t want ‘Gibbs is back’ to translate to ‘Drop Tony like a hot potato’. And apparently, that’s what Gibbs thinks should happen. What did he expect? I don’t think I want my Caff-Pow! anymore.  I didn’t really think about what would happen if Gibbs came back. I guess I thought everything would stay the same, only plus Gibbs. Which was stupid of me, really. Of course things would change. It’d be nice if one of the other teams would catch a case. Or bring me some evidence. Something to do. Anything. Maybe I could start filling out some of my paperwork backlog? I just can’t think about this anymore._

Abby slipped into her desk chair, and pulled the stack of paperwork out of her inbox. Mindless, numbing paperwork sounded really good to right about then.

It was at least two hours’ worth of paperwork later when she resurfaced as McGee walked into the lab, carrying her evidence. Slipping quickly into a well-worn routine, she signed for all the evidence he handed over, and then started processing it. He turned to leave and made it as far as the door before he turned back around and came to stand next to her, looking at her sideways.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, Abby. I just . . . it didn’t seem right to do it over the phone.”

Abby smiled tightly. “It’s fine, McGee. I’m not mad at you. Gibbs came down to see me, and we got into an argument, and then he . . . he walked out of here like we didn’t matter and . . .” To her complete dismay, Abby felt tears slipping down her face, and her voice caught, and then before she could do anything, she was outright sobbing into McGee’s shoulder. He was saying something to her, but she couldn’t really hear him. His voice was drowned out by the chorus of _Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs_ in Abby’s mind, which sounded strangely like _come back please don’t leave us_.

As her sobs died down into sniffles and jerky breaths, she caught some of what McGee was saying while he rubbed her back. “Couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you? How long is it gonna take us to get Tony back on an even keel? And then you made Abby cry, so now Tony will be mad and hurt, which is even worse. You’re the boss-man, but you sure screwed up. We still needed you when you left and need you now and don’t do this to us,” he looked down at her, and cracked a slight smile. “Hey Abs. Feeling better?”

“Yeah, Timmy. I am. Thanks. I think I needed that.” She laughed a little, and shook her head, giving Tim an extra squeeze before she stepped back. “Now go back upstairs and let me work my science-magic on this evidence. We got to catch this dirt-bag quick, so we can fix this mess. I don’t like it; everything feels hinky.”


	4. Chapter Four, in which McGee is a terrible liar

McGee stepped out of Abby’s lab and walked into the elevator before letting his shoulders sag just a bit. _Is this how Tony felt, dealing with her when Gibbs left the first time? I should have been much nicer to him. That was terrible. I don’t like crying people in general, but crying Abby makes me want to shoot something to make her stop. I wonder how long I can keep him in the dark about that. He’s got enough to worry about without adding crying Abby to the list. What was the Director thinking? Did she even know he was coming back?_ McGee realized he was staring at the elevator doors, and hadn’t even pushed the button for the bullpen yet. _Ye gods. Better get my head screwed on straight before I go back out there. Tony’s got enough on his plate without me getting all off-track. God being SFA is a thankless task. Keep everyone on an even keel, don’t let your boss go crazy or off the grid or close himself completely off, make sure everyone is taken care of . . . I am barely hanging on as Tony’s SFA, I can’t imagine what doing all this for Gibbs must have been like. And I’m still pretty sure Tony’s doing way more than his fair share of the paperwork still._ The ding-slide of the elevator doors broke into his thoughts, announcing his arrival to the bullpen. He walked into their section, and moved to sit down at his desk when Tony spoke.

“Abs having a rough day, McGee?”

“What? No, she’s fine.”

Tony just looked at him for a moment, and then gestured in the direction of McGee’s shoulder. “Next time you try to lie to me, make sure the evidence is covered up.”

Bemused, McGee looked down, and blushed. His shoulder was visibly damp, and streaked with mascara. “Right, boss. I’ll keep that in mind. She’s . . . uh, well, she’s been better, but she feels much better now. Oh, and she sends a hug, but I thought maybe you’d rather I let her give you that.”

Tony smirked. It wasn’t much of a smirk, but it looked more real than any of his other expressions so far.

“Look, Tony,” McGee began to say; hoping that inspiration would strike and he would find the perfect thing to say to comfort his friend, but Tony cut him off.

“So, no ID on our dead body. As Ducky would say, ‘poor soul’. Start running down missing persons, please. I’m going to see if Ducky has anything for us. Hopefully the guy is, in fact, a Marine, and therefore in the database. Of course, shot in Rock Creek Park – odds are he’s a petty officer.” Tony finished, and looked at McGee for a long, uncomfortable moment. “McGee – Tim. Thanks. I just can’t talk about it right now; I want to stay focused on the case.”

“Yeah, Tony. But we will talk about it.” McGee tried to give him an imposing glare, but when Tony just rolled his eyes and muttered something about “McDr.Phil,” he was pretty sure it hadn’t been imposing. It had, however, served to loosen the tension in his boss’ shoulders, which McGee was going to count as a win.

As Tony headed toward the elevator, McGee started running down missing persons, searching the databases for missing men who matched their victim’s description. He’d always hated this part of his job – discovering that someone who had only been “missing” was dead, and that they’d have to inform the family of that. Plus the difference between facial recognition photos from autopsy and the missing person’s photos was always hard to see – here’s a person looking pretty vivacious, and here they are, looking pasty-grey with closed eyes, looking like a wax doll. McGee loved working for NCIS, loved his job, but he hoped he never, ever got used to the way corpses looked. He shifted back in his seat as his computer started searching, watching the screen without really seeing it. _I wonder where Gibbs went. He’s not here, not in the lab. Maybe autopsy? I wonder if Ducky can keep his temper long enough to explain to him_ why _we’re all so angry. I wish we could do this morning over again. I don’t think Tony saw, because he was trying to avoid looking at Gibbs, but Gibbs looked confused when we left. I don’t think he remembers us properly yet. He probably wants nothing to have changed, but we all grew and changed while he was gone, and we don’t want to go back into our old roles. I am so much_ more _now than I was – a better field agent, better at making those instinctual leaps that come so naturally to Tony, more willing to step outside my role as ‘team geek’, more confident in my role as ‘team geek’, know that I am necessary for the team. Ziva has grown by leaps and bounds as an investigator. I didn’t understand why Tony was so pissed off when she was assigned to our team after Kate. I get it now. She had no investigative training at all. No one in their right mind would allow someone who hadn’t been to FLETC, or through a Police Academy, out into the field, but she was right there with us, and I certainly wasn’t ready to pick up that slack. No wonder Tony doesn’t completely trust the Director; that was really dangerous for the rest of us, and practically the first thing she did upon arriving at NCIS was assign Ziva to our team. Is this how Tony thinks all the time? It’s sort of lonely, to be this suspicious of my higher-ups. At least I know Tony well enough to know that he would die before betraying us, which is actually part of the problem. Good God being SFA sucks. Well, not really. I love my job. I just wish my job wasn’t constantly screwing the best man I know over._

A ding from his computer startled him out of his thoughts, and he winced. As much as McGee liked solving cases and getting justice, he hated this part. Their victim had a name now. He wasn’t John Doe any longer. McGee could remember Ducky talking about police forces he’d worked with in the past – they had John and Jane Doe’s in the hundreds. At least NCIS usually only had one at any given moment. Currently, they had none. Or would have none, as soon as McGee looked at the screen. The report was for a young man, who had disappeared – _well that’s certainly odd -_ four years ago. Adam Peters, reported missing at age 19, from Detroit, Michigan. He opened the file, and started to read. Several minutes later, he rubbed the back of his neck. This case would be rough. Peters had several run-ins with the police, trying to run-away from his guardians. Finally Child Services had gotten involved, and he had been removed from the household – but only for two years. A judge deemed his guardians fit, and he was sent back. Four years later, he disappeared. And his guardians hadn’t been the ones to file the report, despite the fact that Peters’ address of record was still their home. A Trina Simons had filed the report, stating she was his girlfriend and hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a week. That part of the case seemed pretty open-and-shut to McGee, but he wouldn’t make assumptions. Instead, he’d call Tony.

It seemed like an eternity before Tony picked up. “DiNozzo.”

“Hey boss. Got a hit on the vic. You should come see this.”

Tony said something to Ducky in the background, and then said, “Yeah, McGee. I’ll be up in five.”


	5. Chapter Five, in which Ducky has one-and-a-half conversations and Gibbs has feelings of remorse

Ducky sighed as he and Jimmy moved the victim onto one of the tables in autopsy. On days like today, when he was dealing with John Doe victims _and_ the team’s frustrations about Gibbs, he felt all of his years. With the smoothness of long practice, Jimmy turned to get the paperwork and evidence bags needed to begin the autopsy, but he made it no more than three steps before he stumbled into the next table. Ducky looked up sharply – Jimmy might not be confident in many arenas, but here in autopsy he shone. Looking past young Mr. Palmer, Ducky sighed again. Gibbs was sitting at his desk, looking, for the first time Ducky could remember, unsure of himself . . . and maybe a little ashamed. “Mr. Palmer, I do believe Jethro and I are going to have a spot of tea. I think this will finish off my tea supply; be a lad and go for a tea run please?”

“I… uh, of course Doctor. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Jimmy’s voice suggested that he wasn’t sure _what_ he would do if Ducky said he wouldn’t be alright, but Ducky was touched nonetheless. Anthony’s friendship with Mr. Palmer had worked wonders for the young man’s confidence – Ducky had seen him badger Anthony into getting several injuries checked out, not falling for his patent “I’m fine, Palmer.”

He smiled at Jimmy, noting the way Jethro – because it was Jethro sitting at his desk, not Gibbs – tensed when Jimmy implied that he might be a danger. “I’ll be fine. In fact, why don’t you take that lovely young woman of yours out to lunch? I’m sure Anthony won’t mind if you borrow her for a good cause.” Ducky might normally project a kind, almost grandfatherly air, but as his mother had said in her better days, he had a “streak o’ the devil in him”. And that streak was positively chortling over the color young Mr. Palmer’s face had just turned.

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll . um. I’ll just go now.” Jimmy was off, looking as though he wanted to melt into the floor.

The doors to autopsy slid closed nearly noiselessly as Ducky began to prepare the body for its autopsy. He would at least get the photos taken so that the team could begin running down the missing persons list, and get the samples for Abby ready so that when Jimmy returned, he could take them down to her. “I’ll be with you in a just a moment, Jethro. I’d like to get the preliminaries done so that we can sit down and have a cup of tea.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jethro nod stiffly.

A few photo’s later, Ducky was done. He sent the files up to McGee, and set the tray of samples for Abby aside. He turned to his desk to start the water for tea, but was shocked to see that Jethro had done that for him – and poured two cups, which were steeping. He inhaled, smelling black tea and bergamot. “Ah, Earl Grey. One of my favorites, indeed. Good choice, Jethro. Now, what did you need to see me about?”

Gibbs took a sip and grimaced slightly. “I’m a little confused, Duck. I thought they wanted me back, but Abby got angry with me, Ziva compared me to her father, and McGee threatened to transfer to the FBI! What the hell is wrong with them? Last time I was here, Ziva was busy complaining about how DiNozzo was insufferable, and McGee would hardly take his orders. Now they want him and not me?”

Ducky decided it would be kinder to not ask how Anthony had reacted – Gibbs’ avoidance of his name suggested that Gibbs knew he’d behaved badly in regards to Anthony, or at least that he knew he’d hurt Anthony badly, even if he didn’t know how or why. “Jethro, you left. Anthony stayed, despite everything the team threw at him. He held them together and kept them going even when they wouldn’t listen and he had to stay late to finish everything. McGee and Ziva have realized this, and come to value Anthony more than they have before. I don’t believe Ziva meant for her ‘insufferable’ comment to be taken seriously, and that she regrets making it now. She does not quite understand how to make a proper joke, and what she means as a joke or a gentle ribbing often comes off as a harsh comment.” Ducky was silent for a moment, while Gibbs studied his mug of tea. “Jethro, I must ask, in what capacity have you returned?”

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. “Jen never filed my retirement – I had every intention of not returning. She reinstated me as an Agent, and team lead of MCRT. I assumed that she would have told DiNozzo, and the rest of the team; I should have known better than to assume . . .” he trailed off, looking back down into his tea.  He growled, sounding every inch of the Papa-bear Abby had dubbed him. “She hinted that he was bucking for a transfer, that he wasn’t ready for the job. Hell, she outright stated it. ‘He’s looking, Jethro. I don’t think this team was the right fit.’ That’s what she said, Duck! So I was pissed at him for wanting to leave – I thought I broke him of that! – and I reacted badly. Then I was more confused and hell, Duck, you know what I’m like when I get confused.”

Ducky grimaced just thinking about it. “Well, Jethro, you know what you have to do. And don’t give me any of that ‘apologies are a sign of weakness’ balderdash. If you want the team to stay, you’ll have to do more than handing out head-slaps. You must explain to Anthony what you just told me; only you will have to be more explicit about it. He has done a marvelous job of leading the team – I believe their solve rate has stayed as high as it ever was when you were here.” Ducky paused, and took a steadying breath. “Jethro, although I believe that you will be able to repair your relationships with everyone here, you must be more open with them. We were all hurt by your sudden disappearance. Your reappearance this morning has only made things worse – they are still hurt, and now they are angry with you as well. You will have to clear things up with Anthony before you can get anywhere, I believe.”

The two men sat in silence, Gibbs looking as contemplative as Ducky had ever seen him. He sipped at his tea, and made a slight face at its temperature registered. As angry as he’d been at Jethro for leaving, Ducky had to admit that he’d missed his friend dearly, and sitting quietly with him was healing some of the rawness he’d left behind. Gibbs lifted his teacup and drained it. “Thanks, Duck. I’ll play nicely. I do know how,” he said, as he set the cup down and stood. “Think I’ll go get some coffee. Get out of everyone’s space for a while.”

Before Gibbs reached the doors, they slid open, and Anthony stepped in, stopping short when he saw Gibbs standing in front of him. Ducky watched apprehensively from his seat at his desk, but Gibbs just nodded at Anthony once, and then stepped out the doors and onto the waiting elevator. Anthony took two steps forward, and the doors slid shut behind him.

“Ducky. You got anything for me?” Ducky winced internally at cool sound of Anthony’s voice.

“Not yet, Anthony, though I do have some samples to take up to Abby. Would you mind assisting me in removing this poor young man’s clothes so I can send them with the samples? Mr. Palmer has gone to purchase more tea, as I seem to have run out.” As Ducky spoke, he maneuvered Anthony toward the table where the body was laid out. Contrary to popular belief, Ducky did know when he ought to be silent, and so he and Anthony worked in silence stripping the body and bagging the clothes. Anthony’s shoulders didn’t relax until Ducky was halfway through his initial examination of the body, and as Ducky signed off on the initial examination, he began to speak. To Ducky’s dismay, he didn’t speak about his reactions to Gibbs’ return, though he supposed that, like Gibbs’ avoidance of Anthony’s name, the silence spoke for itself. In fact, what Anthony was speaking about was solely another of his masks. An Anthony rambling about coeds and frats and drinking was an Anthony who felt the need to reapply his masks, an Anthony who was worried or nervous or anxious.

Anthony’s phone rang, halting his monologue. “DiNozzo.”

Ducky couldn’t hear the other voice, but it became clear when Anthony turned to him, covering the mouthpiece. “McGee’s got a hit on the vic, but something about it is making him nervous. He wants me to go up and check it out.” Turning back to the phone, he responded, “Yeah, McGee, I’ll be up in five.” Anthony slipped the phone back into his pocket, and turned back to Ducky. “Thanks, Ducky. Call me when you have anything.”

Ducky watched Anthony until the elevator doors closed, and sighed. “I did hope he might open up to me, but if wishes were horses, my poor man, beggars would ride. Now, I am nearly certain that it was, in fact, this gunshot wound to your chest that did you in, but needs must, young man, and so let’s see about what’s inside.” Ducky chatted with the dead bodies in autopsy as a way to think things through; his stories were designed to get rid of a distraction, because he knew no one really wanted to listen to them, and to help him form a psychological autopsy, with his stories inspired by small things he’d noticed. He sighed again, and turned back to his desk to gather the supplies he’d need for the autopsy. “Well, young man, it is clear from my initial exam that you did not have the happiest home life. I do hope you managed to get away from it, like another young man of my acquaintance. I must admit that I agree with Abby in her opinion of his father, despite having never met the man in question. He did an excellent job of destroying that boy’s self-worth. I believe these next few days will be very hard, indeed.”

* * *

Gibbs waited until he was certain that DiNozzo was safely ensconced in Autopsy with Ducky before he stepped onto the elevator. He let the elevator start up, and waited until he was certain it was between floors before hitting the emergency stop button. He stood in the sudden silence for a long moment before whirling around and slamming his fist into the elevator wall. His hand ached, but it didn’t do much to take his mind of the ache in his chest. The last time he’d seen DiNozzo look like that was when he’d confronted his partner in Baltimore. It was a look filled with disappointment, anger, and deep sadness. Gibbs had sworn to keep that look out of Tony’s eyes. _I’ve done a bang up job of that,_ he thought bitterly. _Tony can barely look at me. Jenny, what the hell are you playing at? Duck wouldn’t lie to me about this, and he’s worked with agents long enough to have a truly solid handle on the situation. Damnit! I can’t confront her, not yet. Got to figure out her game. And for that, I need coffee._

He stepped out of NCIS HQ into startlingly bright sunlight. He scowled briefly at the sky; he felt that grey and dreary would be a more appropriate weather choice. Shaking his head, he took off for his favorite coffee shop. Coffee acquired, he walked toward the river. Sitting on the benches in the park had always cleared his head, and often allowed him to make connections in the cases he was working. He found an empty bench and sat down. Sipping his coffee, he stared out, not really seeing the people walking by.

_Jen is trying to cause a rift. Is it only between me and DiNozzo, or me and the team? Or DiNozzo and the team? What does she gain from that? And scratch trying. Jen_ has _caused a rift. Ducky’s right. I’m gonna have to apologize. To DiNozzo for sure. And probably Abby – shouldn’t have yelled at her. Got to tell McGee and Ziva that I’m proud of them. Probably that Probie too. Sounds like Tony let up on Rule Twelve. I wonder if he and Ziva. . . Focus, Jethro! You will lose them if you don’t fix this. McGee was serious about the FBI threat. So Jen sets me up to come back pissed off at DiNozzo for leaving. She knows me well enough to know I would trust her word – she was my partner! – and that I’m bad at communicating. So I come back as a bastard and . . . Well. Anyone looking at DiNozzo’s record would assume he’d cut ties with NCIS. I know he wouldn’t. The team is his family, so he won’t leave them. But if you didn’t know him that well . . . she might have assumed he’d look for an internal transfer. Too many ties to NCIS to cut, but I return, boot him back to SFA without talking to him and he might leave the team. Is there a Team Lead position open somewhere? Would Tony leave? I’ve certainly given him reason to. And if Tony leaves, will the rest of the team stay? Would McGee really go to the FBI? Ziva can’t really leave NCIS unless she wants to go back to Mossad and Israel, but it doesn’t sound like she wants to go back -_

“So Jethro, is it true McGee’s looking for a transfer to the FBI?”

Holding still by sheer force of will, Gibbs turned to see Tobias Fornell sitting next to him on the bench, sipping his own coffee.

“I mean, if he’s looking to move on, I could really use his skills. And you know, one of them leaves, NCIS hasn’t got enough of a hold on the other two. Think the director would give me a raise for signing them? Hell, DiNozzo’s had a standing job offer from me for years. And I’m sure I could work out a liaison position for David with Mossad.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” Gibbs ground out. DiNozzo had a standing job offer from the FBI? When had that happened? Gibbs didn’t even think Fornell liked Tony. And damn it, he was going to fix this. They weren’t going anywhere, and definitely not to the feebies.

Fornell chuckled and took another sip. “Oh, Jethro? Word in the alphabet agencies is that you dumped their stuff on their old desks, and David and McGee chewed you out for it. Also says their timid little probie turned out to have claws.” He drained his coffee, and turned to look Gibbs in the eye. “Jethro, you screwed up. The other alphabet agencies? They may not like DiNozzo’s personality, but they love his results. I’m sure the CIA will be sniffing around – he’s that good undercover. Everyone wants a McGee on their team. And David, well, the CIA will be looking at her, and her father would love for her to go back home. If you want to fix it, do it fast before you lose them. Might have to break some of those rules of yours.”

Gibbs sighed. “Yeah. I screwed up. Don’t need anyone else’s help to see that.” He was silent a while longer, trying to decide if he should mention his worries about the Director. Hell. He and Tobias had been friends – both screwed over by the same woman – and outside of his team, he was probably the one he trusted the most. “The Director’s up to something. Wanted me to blunder in like that. Told me DiNozzo was looking to leave, that he hadn’t done a good job with the MCRT. Turns out, the solve rate stayed the same, and he lead despite getting crap from McGee and Ziva. I think she wants him for another position, and she’s doing whatever she can to make it happen. Can you look into that for me? Tony’s specialty is undercover . . . I’m beginning to think she wants to use that.”

Fornell eyed Gibbs, and then looked back out over the Potomac. Gibbs sipped at his coffee and watched Tobias fiddle with the lid of his takeout cup. “You still got that boat in your basement? Maybe I should come over tonight, see how it’s doing.” He looked back at Gibbs. “We need to talk, and I do have to be back to the office soon.” Fornell stood. “I’ll see you later, Jethro.”

Gibbs watched as Tobias walked away. _God Jen, what are you up to? And why the hell are you dragging Tony into it?_ He sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. _I’d better make things right with Tony, and soon. I may be a bastard, but I’m sure as hell not going to sit around and let the Director use my team like pawns. Especially when I helped alienate them. I need to come up with a plan. And I need help, but unless I’m back on speaking terms with Tony, none of the team will help. Duck might. . ._ Gibbs let his shoulders slump for a moment as he thought about all the work he’d have to do to make things right.Closing his eyes for a moment, he gathered all his reserves, and stood up, opening his eyes. He tossed the empty coffee cup in the trash, and walked back into NCIS.

Making his excuses to Jenny, Gibbs drove home, stopping on the way to pick up some supplies. Fornell would bring dinner with the intel, but it was up to Gibbs to provide the drinks, and he knew he was out of both bourbon and beer. He picked up a couple steaks as well. If he could get DiNozzo to his place, cooking him dinner would go a long way in making his apology count. And he would make this right.

He would.


	6. Fornell Chooses a Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Got my edits mixed and posted the wrong chapter. Thanks for the heads up!

Knowing his friend, and his uncanny ability to read people, Fornell studiously did not think about DiNozzo or the mess Gibbs had left his team in as he walked away. It wasn’t until he was safely in his car that Fornell allowed himself to think over the conversation he’d just had with Gibbs. The man seemed determined to fix things. If he actually allowed himself to speak honestly about his emotions, he might even manage to do just that. But Tobias had known Jethro for years – Christ, they’d married the same woman – and he’d never known about Shannon and Kelly. He understood, of course, why Gibbs never talked about them, and it explained a lot about how Gibbs was with Emily, but Tobias couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed.

And he was angry, too. He and DiNozzo might talk a lot of shit about each other, and to each other, but when Gibbs wasn’t around, they got along well. He was one of the best agents Fornell had ever worked with, and he’d hire him in a moment. No matter what Sacks may think, DiNozzo is _very_ good at what he does. His movies, the chatter about women, acting juvenile; they’re all pieces of a mask that lulls you into a sense of false security, but once you think you have him pegged, he does something completely out of left field that has you questioning yourself. He’d first heard of the kid from a friend in the agency. He’d been working a serial case in Philadelphia, and had spoken of the young detective he’d worked with well, albeit often in exasperation. Fornell had kept an ear out for the kid after that, and so he knew all about the two-year time limit – and he’d known when he came to DC to work with Gibbs and NCIS. He’d been sending out feelers to DiNozzo around the two-year mark when he finally got to meet him. Impressed with his inventiveness and his drive, even if it had resulted in Tony’s ass getting tossed on the beltway, he’d stepped up the recruiting, but he’d only ever gotten a ‘thanks but no thanks’ from the kid. Tobias had found himself looking forward to working with Gibbs and his team, if only to work with DiNozzo. The kid was good, and Fornell agreed with Gibbs: You Don’t Waste Good.

He’d been furious when DiNozzo had been framed for the sexualized murder of a young woman – he knew Tony hadn’t done it. Of anyone at that whole damn agency, Tony DiNozzo is the only one Tobias thinks truly incapable of murder. So yeah, it’d pissed him off when Tony got framed, when Sacks believed it, when McGee made that stupid comment to DiNozzo . . . but he’d done his job anyway. And then when Abby had figured it out and Tony had been let out of that cell, Tobias went home and bought some of that nice beer he’d seen Tony drink once at a bar, and turned up at DiNozzo’s apartment with it. Tony answered the door in sweats and a t-shirt, looking like the college boy he pretended to be, and stared at Fornell in confusion before letting him in. They drank the first beer in silence, some black and white movie playing in the background, before Tony turned to him and asked him why he was there. Well, what he’d actually said was “You trying to get me drunk and spill my guts about the women I’ve apparently been murdering? That a new interrogation technique the Hoover building’s trying out?” Tobias had stared at him, slightly horrified when he realized Tony was serious. “No, DiNozzo!” he’d snapped out, and then paused. More quietly, he added, “I’m here because I knew you didn’t kill her, or assault her. And I know how it feels to be stuck behind bars for something you _know_ you didn’t do, and I thought you might need company tonight.” Even as he said it, Tobias was wondering where the hell Tony’s team was, what their excuses were for not supporting their teammate. “Huh,” Tony had replied contemplatively. “Well, thanks. For not thinking I’m a crazy rapist-murderer. And for the beer.” And that was that.

They hadn’t ever talked about it again, but there was a new levity in their jabs toward each other when they met up for cases. Tony’d even called him a few times when he needed an outside view. Fornell was honored to be a part of DiNozzo’s extensive list of contacts. (He’d heard that in Baltimore, Tony could call up the gang leaders and get reliable information from them on murders. He was certain that Tony had contacts in each and every alphabet agency that he could call up for a favor at a moment’s notice. There was a reason Gibbs always had DiNozzo deal with local LEOs.) So when Tobias heard about the bombing, he’d thought of Tony. And then when he heard about the coma, he ordered a pizza and had it delivered to the NCIS office. When he heard about the “you’ll do,” and Gibbs’ departure for Mexico, he’d shown up at Tony’s door with good Italian take-out and a very nice bottle of red wine. “I hear you got promoted. Congratulations, Tony,” he’d said. “Gibbs didn’t pass the torch properly, but I thought I’d try to celebrate it with you anyway.” For one horrifying moment, he thought Tony might cry, but he’d pulled himself together, and they’d made a night of it.

When Tobias had shown up in Gibbs’ basement to beg him to help with the case, he’d already been to Tony’s apartment. In direct contrast with the showdown at Gibbs’, all he’d managed to say was “DiNozzo, I could use your help” before Tony was ushering him in, pulling out a pad of paper, and getting case details. When Tony had heard that the guy had touched Emily, Tobias knew that Tony would work for however long it took to catch him just from the expression in his eyes. Tony’s whole demeanor had sharpened, and it had stayed that way until they figured out who the original bank robbers were.

Somewhere along the line he’d earned DiNozzo’s loyalty, and Tobias would do his best to repay that. If repaying that meant bashing Gibbs’ ego and pride into more manageable sizes, well, Tobias could do that. And if he couldn’t, he was more than willing to enlist Diane. . .

He’d made it all the way to the Hoover building on autopilot, thinking over the NCIS situation. And it was a situation. The files he had collected, originally intending to hand them off to Tony, would go a long way in proving Gibbs right in his suspicions about the Director. Fornell wasn’t entirely sure why he was the one dealing with the Jenny Shepard situation. He guessed it had something to do with his close ties to the MCRT of NCIS. To be fair, Tony had mentioned that the Director was running an op and it didn’t seem to be on the up and up. She’d had Tony out running surveillance and leading the MCRT, and wasn’t letting him talk to his team about it. (Why they hadn’t picked up on something was beyond Tobias. It’d been apparent to him about the third time he saw Tony post-Gibbs’ _retirement_ that there was something going on, and he’d obliquely pestered Tony about it until he had most of the story). So Tobias had done some poking of his own, with the name Tony had given him – La Grenouille. He’d dinged someone’s radar, and had a lovely visit from some men in black. He was guessing CIA, since the man was an arms dealer. The men in black had questioned him for nearly an hour about why he was looking into the guy, and then seemed to decide he was on the up (up of what, he hadn’t the foggiest). They’d handed over a file, and told him to “Deal with Shepard.” And now it looked like she was making a move of her own, trying to bounce Tony into an undercover op without him asking too many questions. He could even guess who the mark would be – La Grenouille had a daughter a little younger than Tony who lived in DC. If the Director had her way, Tobias was pretty sure DiNozzo would be dating her before the end of the month, probably without backup. _Christ what a clusterfuck_.

He stared at the file for a while, weighing his options. He’d told Gibbs he would show up tonight with this intel. And he would. But Fornell knew, without a doubt, that if Tony had come into information like this about _his_ director, he’d be the first person Tony would call. But Tony had a case. And. . . _Oh hell, Tobias. You know if you don’t tell him about this before you tell Gibbs, you’ll feel guilty about it. And Tony will accidentally make you feel worse, because it won’t occur to him that you should have told him first. Because DiNozzo doesn’t come first for anyone, in his book. And despite McGee, David, and whats-her-name-the-probie pretty much explicitly stating that DiNozzo comes first, Gibbs made it clear he didn’t. And whoever called Tony Gibbs’ loyal St. Bernard wasn’t that far off. Gibbs says jump, Tony says how high. Not that he doesn’t stand up to Gibbs, back him down off things, redirect him,_ manage _him. . . Well. I’m going to put DiNozzo first, too._

He pulled out his cellphone, and called Tony.


	7. Tony Inner Monologues and The Case Plays On

Tony walked out of autopsy briskly. Ducky’s kind silence in combination with McGee’s awkward concern, coupled with this morning’s scene in the bullpen – his team’s ( _his team! Him, Tony DiNozzo!)_ staunch defense of him, their anger and concern. . . well, they were going to do him in faster than any of the other ways people had tried to kill him since he became a cop. _Since I was ordered to live in a hospital isolation room, drowning in my own lungs._ He paused in front of the elevator door, and for a moment, he saw a hundred memories of him and Gibbs in that elevator: _Tony, as far as I’m concerned, you’re irreplaceable . . . DiNozzo! What the hell were you thinking . . .You sure you’re ready to come back? You’ve got another week of sick leave . . . Hey – get your head in the game_ , and a thousand headslaps saying, “Focus, DiNozzo – and yes, I see you,” and a very few memories of strong fingers grasping his chin _“Hey._ I care. _We’ll get through this.”_ His eyes burned, and he shook his head before about facing and heading for the stairs.

He let the door slide closed behind him quietly, and climbed up a flight of stairs, and then part of another, stopping on the landing halfway between the lobby and the bullpen. Tony sat on the top step, and let his head gently thump back onto the stairwell. He glanced at his watch. Three minutes to pull it together, and then go see what McGee wanted. _DiNozzos do not cry,_ he thought, and grinned wryly. _And Anthony DiNozzo Junior doesn’t cry at work. Once he gets home, well. All bets are off._ He thought back over the morning – _God, is it really only one o-clock?_ – and was amazed and humbled and fucking terrified by the faith his team had shown in him. He resolutely quashed the echo of his father’s voice in his head. He was blindsided by the voice that filled it instead. _Forget about it, McGee. He’s still alive. My desk, my team._ Tony winced, shoved that voice down toward his father’s, and let his teams’ words hold that box closed: _if you wanted to speak to him, you could have called . . . you are no longer our boss. To treat my boss in this manner, as though the work he has done means nothing, is disrespectful . . . Did you think that we would allow you to screw him over . . . I am notifying you now that I will be requesting a transfer to a team that recognizes the worth of all of its agents . . . With all due respect, sir, stick it . . . It’s my job now to stay on Tony’s six, to protect him when he runs into danger to keep the rest of us out of it . . . We are yours no longer._ He let their words wash over him, soothing the rough places. _I am not a placeholder to them. They want_ me _, Tony DiNozzo. They appreciate me – what I did, what I’m doing. They respect me. They see beyond my masks – given McGee’s stab at comfort, probably more behind my masks than I’d like. Kate never did – and Kate is a bad place to go, brain. Gibbs may have gotten blown up, but he is not_ dead. A sly voice responded, _No, Gibbs isn’t dead, but your boss? The man you followed out of Baltimore with the promise that he would always have your six? That man? He_ is _dead._ Tony frowned. _No. He’s still got some memory problems, can’t remember us well. He’ll get there. And I am_ so _not arguing with myself; that’s definitely not a good sign. And there’s nothing I can do about Gibbs now anyway. Not his team anymore, so I doubt he’ll let me in. Abby though. I need to check in on Abs today. Somehow I think that pointing out I’m not going anywhere will not go over well, in light of this morning. Take him off that pedestal, Abs. He’s only human, and you’ll only end up more hurt._ Tony deliberately ignored that part of him that was right alongside Abby with that pedestal. Gibbs, Tony knew, had feet of clay, but that had never made him any less of a superman. He glanced back down at his watch. _Okay, DiNozzo. Game on. Focus on the case. Deal with Gibbs later – but check in with the Director, because you do need to know what precisely is going on with your employment_ before _you get around to writing up reports._

Tony walked out of the stairwell and into the bullpen. If McGee had chosen to look up, he’d have seen Tony, but he didn’t – _I need to teach him to be more aware of his surroundings. Usually, I only pretended not to have noticed Gibbs_ – and so Tony continued to overtly survey him. McGee looked like classic McWorry, which Tony would do his best to nip in the bud. Though he should probably track down the rest of his team, too – where were Ziva and Lee? As if his thought had triggered it, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. _Lunch with Palmer to get him out of Autopsy so Ducky could have private chat,_ read the text from his newest probie. Well. Looked like the Duck-man had noticed that mutual-awareness thing, too. He’d give Ziva another five minutes before he called her. She should be back from the crime scene by now. He tried not to let his mind wander down the road of where she’d been the last time she’d been late, and instead focused his inner mantra down to: _I trust Ziva. She would call me if she needed help. She trusts me. I trust Ziva. She would call me if she needed help. She trusts me_. With that rather pleasant chain of thoughts ringing through his head, Tony sauntered over to McGee.

“McGee. You needed me?”

“Yeah, Boss,” he said, holding up a ‘one moment please’ finger. He returned it to the keyboard, his fingers flying. Tony walked over to his desk to wait. Someone, and he didn’t know who, but he would guess it was one of the other teams’ SFA – they’d become good friends as they groaned about the paperwork they had to fill out, and about checking reports, and all the stuff their lead agents delegated to them (and they’d all agreed Tony had it worst) – had carefully reorganized the bullpen, so that it was back to the way it had been. They’d even managed to get his file system correct.

He sat down in his chair in time to look up at McGee as he came over to report his findings to Tony. “So. I matched our db to a missing person’s report, which is hinky, as Abby would say, because the report is four years old, and the guy definitely wasn’t military. I put in a call to get a copy of the original file, and I’ve got the address of the last person to see him.” McGee flourished a piece of paper in front of him.

“Nice, McGee. But none of that made it necessary to call me up from Autopsy. Not that I minded, of course. Ducky was silent, which is a terrible turn of events, and made me _very_ nervous.” Tony grinned at McGee and waited. Whatever it was, McGee looked like he wanted to both blurt it out and never say it which meant one of two things: he had a crazy, geeky theory about the case, or he was worried the report would bother Tony, which suggested it was about parental abandonment. Or both. Sweet of him to worry, but as Tony had discovered just that morning, he wasn’t twelve anymore. He wasn’t being left behind in Hawai’i, and he had a team who was his family. Dad had left, yeah, but the other kids weren’t going to leave _him_. And that meant everything.

They were still staring at each other in their silent stand-off, McGee trying to figure out how best to phrase things and Tony waiting for McGee to spit it out, when the elevator doors opened, and Ziva rushed out.

* * *

Ziva growled at the other drivers on the road. She had finally realized that the largest reason Tony and McGee gave her a hard time about her driving was not because they were afraid for their lives, but because they assumed that her defensive driving meant she did not feel safe here. She had made a stab at driving like everyone else, but on days like today, she wished she had not made that resolution. It was very frustrating to sit in a traffic jam (she had made sure she knew that idiom!) and see all the places she could maneuver the van and yet not do it. She took a deep breath, let it out, and repeated. _I will not dart out there. I will stay in my lane. I will not shoot the tires of that car._ Her frustrations had truly started when the LEO’s had not wanted to leave her at the scene alone, but they had not been interested in helping her search for the bullet. Ziva understood procedure to a point, but it was ridiculous. Her LEO mantra was _Tony used to be a cop. Be nice. Maybe one of them could turn into Tony. Tony likes cops. Be nice_. It had failed her. She was certain Tony had never been as deliberately obtuse as those men had been. She finally called NCIS dispatch and got a truckload of FLETC students out to help her search. And they had, and she now had in her possession the evidence bag that contained the bullet. She tried not to think about the case of evidence bags in the back – apparently, new FLETC students bagged and tagged everything.

And there! Ziva took a hard right turn to come up the back way to NCIS. She signed the van back in, dropped the evidence off with the evidence bunnies – _if Tony finds out that his name for them has caught on with me, I will never hear the end of it_ – and hightailed it onto the elevator. She paused for a moment, trying to decide if “hightailed” was the correct word – she was pretty sure it was – and if so, where it had come from. She decided to put it down on her list of “idioms to look up later.” Ziva mentally urged the elevator to hurry. Tony would be worrying and trying to pretend he was not, and she really should have called him when she left the scene. She exited the elevator in the bullpen in a rush, and stopped short when she entered her section. Tony and McGee were having a stare-down at Tony’s desk.

They turned to look at her in concert. She stared back. Then Tony shook his head, grinned, and said, “McGee. Spit it out. Because although I would love to stand around and stare at each other some more – and who doesn’t want to stare at me? – we do have a case to solve, and this isn’t solving it.”

Ziva grinned. Tony in all his irrepressible glory was back. Of course, she was well aware it was just a mask, but the mask being back told her two things: Tony was more affected by Gibbs’ return then he was letting on, and that Tony wanted to make sure they all had a rock while things got figured out. She glanced at McGee, who looked vaguely pained. He had made great strides since she’d joined the team, but he still did not always understand the need for the mask. Or why she and Tony never wanted to _talk it out_. As she watched, McGee shook his head slightly, and swallowed. Visibly.

“So, the vic’s name is Adam Peters. He was reported missing from Detroit, Michigan four years ago. Like I said, the Detroit PD is sending us the missing person’s file. He was reported missing by his girlfriend, after she hadn’t heard from him in a week. He was living with his parents at the time, and they never reported him missing. As far as I can tell, they were questioned but that was it. Peters had a history of running away from home, and was taken out of the home for two years when he was 13. A judge declared his parents fit, and he was returned to them. I pulled up the most recent phone number and address for the girlfriend, Trina Simons. She lives just outside DC.” McGee gave his report quickly, skimming over the part Ziva was most interested in – the running away often before the age of 13, and removal from the home – in what she assumed was deference to Tony’s feelings, because his shoulders had tensed imperceptibly as McGee spoke.

Ziva looked at Tony’s shoulders, and then at McGee, who looked like he felt terribly guilty for stressing Tony further. “Do we know why he was in uniform?” It seemed like a reasonable distraction, and obviously one they would have to answer if they wanted to keep the case.

“No,” McGee answered. “I don’t know why the uniform.”

Tony opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, his desk phone rang. He picked it up. “Special Agent DiNozzo,” he said, and then grinned. “Abs! Why didn’t you call my cell?” He paused, and looked confused for just a moment. “Yeah. About that, Abby. We’ll be down in a moment. McGee will be sending you some information before we head down there.” He hung up, and stared at the phone for a moment.

“Boss?” McGee said, “What’s up?”

“Not sure yet, but Abs got a hit. With a different name, and from the DNA database. Send her the two photos you used, please.” Tony grimaced a bit. “We have a case of double identities.”

Ziva frowned. “Maybe one of us should go pick up the girlfriend?” She would be able to identify Peters, if it was Peters in their autopsy.

Tony looked considering for a moment, then shook his head. “We’ll check out Abby’s lead first. See what it gets us. We will be picking up the girlfriend. McGee, can you find a photo of her?”

He nodded. “Yes Boss. But not right away. I could do it while you talk to Abby, but it might take a while.”

Tony shrugged. “Won’t hurt to put it off for a half hour, and I want you in Abby’s lab. Ziva, will you call the Probie and tell her I said that I hope her date was nice, and could she be back in the bullpen in thirty?” He turned on his heel and headed for the elevators. McGee typed franticly for a moment, and then scrambled after him.

Ziva stood in the silence of the bullpen for a moment. Interpersonal relationships were not her strongest point, and she really wasn’t any good at comforting people. Protecting them, she could do. Ziva nodded decisively to herself. It was decided then. Until this case was over, she would keep Gibbs away from Tony, before he could hurt her team leader any more. Decision reached, she pulled out her cell phone. Had Tony really said Lee was on a _date_? It was the middle of the day! They had a case! What was she _thinking_?

Hanging up on Lee’s spluttering, Ziva headed for the stairs, ready to join the rest of her team in Abby’s lab. She slipped in through the sliding doors, looking at the screen around which everyone else was gathered. Three photographs were displayed: one from autopsy, one from McGee’s missing person’s file, and one was a military ID. Abby looked up. “Oh good! Ziva, you’re here! I wasn’t going to tell them anything until you all got here.”

McGee grinned mischievously. “Does that mean we have to wait for Lee to get back from her lunch date with Palmer?”

Abby shook her head vigorously, pigtails bouncing. “Nope! She’s not in the building so she doesn’t count! Not that she doesn’t count normally – Lee is nice. Very boring, but nice. Kind of timid, too.”

Ziva shook her head, “You did not hear her this morning, Abby. She called Gibbs ‘sir’. And she offered to help force the Director to keep Tony as Team Lead.”

“ _And_ she told Gibbs to ‘stick it’,” McGee said proudly.

They all jumped when Tony clapped loudly. “This is all very fun, people, but focus please. We can discuss Lee’s frightening new propensity for bad-assery once the case is closed. Now, Abs, what do you have for me?”

Abby saluted, and Ziva had a brief flash of memory: Abby saluting Gibbs at his desk with the wrong hand, calling him ma’am. She shook her head to clear it as Abby began to speak. “So I ran the DNA, and got a match – meet Petty Officer Tom Simons. And then Tony said it was hinky, ‘cause Timmy got a match too, only his is named Adam Peters. And then _I_ said it was hinky, ‘cause Major Mass Spec and the rest of the troops don’t lie. I’m running the photo recognition software now, and you can’t rush science, but eye-balling it says they look like the same person.” She leaned back into Tony’s side, and he hugged her shoulder.

“Nice work, Abs. Now we know we at least have jurisdiction, which solves one problem.” Tony had a gleam in his eye that suggested he had an idea about the case, but was going to make them work it out themselves. Ziva let herself drift over the facts so far. Something was perched just out of reach. McGee looked just as frustrated as she felt. And then Ziva straightened. “Tony, what was the girlfriend’s name?”

Tony smiled. “Trina Simons.”

McGee jumped it, “Our Petty Officer has the same last name. Could be just a coincidence, but that seems unlikely. So the girlfriend helped him, and then reported him missing?”

Tony shrugged. “Not sure. Abby, pull up his service record. It should have next-of-kin listed.”

They all watched as the screen filled with his record. There, on the next-of-kin line, was the name Trina Simons.


	8. Working dates are not a thing, Lee and Palmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. Life happened. I'm a full time grad student, with additional responsibilities PLUS also I am an adult with expenses and a dog. So. Writing fell to the wayside for a while but I'm trying to pick it back up. Please be patient with me as I continue editing and working and writing. I looked at my drafts and my solution to all the current problems just really wasn't gonna work out, so I'll keep editing what I have previously written but I had to scrap the rest. 
> 
> ANYWAY. Be well, y'all! I hope you enjoy!

“Thanks, Agent David,” Michelle said into the dial tone. She looked across the table at Jimmy. “Would it kill them to say goodbye?”

Jimmy made a face. “They picked it up from Gibbs. When do you need to be back?”

She smiled at him. Though conventional advice suggested dating a coworker was a bad idea, it was working well for her so far. Jimmy understood the time constraints of her job, and it was great to see him at work - and really nice that work provided a ready-made excuse to spend time with him. “Half-hour. It sounds like things got interesting. She didn’t say much, but she sounded distracted.” Michelle shrugged. They were all distracted today, though she was mostly picking up on every one else's worries. The tension the rest of her team felt was bleeding over, and her shoulders had been tightening up all day. She felt like a wind-up toy wound too far with the key held tight, keeping the spring in place. The whole team was like that today. Lunch with Jimmy had been a nice respite, the tension decreasing, though it never completely left their shoulders.

“Well then, shall we walk back?” Jimmy stood up and offered her his arm. “Dr. Mallard should be done with Agent Gibbs by now.”

They paid their bill and walked out the door. It would take the better part of their half-hour to walk back, but it was a nice day, sunny, if a little breezy. They had only been walking a few moments when Michelle finally managed to spit out the question that had been bothering her all morning - and frankly, since she’d joined the MCRT as their probie. “Jimmy, what was Gibbs like? Before he left, I mean.”

Jimmy grimaced, and then laughed a bit. “I was terrified of him. Dropped things, couldn’t finish my sentences . . . Tough. No-nonsense. But he cared about the team; a blind person could see that. Gerald, he was Dr. Mallard’s assistant before I came, he interviewed me, and gave me some pointers on dealing with the MCRT. Some of the things were basic - don’t interrupt Gibbs in interrogation, don’t get between a Marine and his coffee . . . other things took me longer to believe. Some of that was about Ducky and Gibbs’ friendship. But he told me that if anyone on the team was in danger, I should steer clear unless I had immediate help I could offer; that the team was the closest thing Gibbs had to family and he’d move hell and high water for them, and for Tony, Gibbs would do almost anything. Well, anything, really - except tell him that he cared, but maybe he did. Ducky said one time that actions speak louder than words in Gibbs’ case, and Gibbs when Tony was hurt was a force to be reckoned with . . .” Jimmy trailed off.

Michelle watched his face for a moment. She couldn’t fit the Gibbs she’d seen this morning, and the gruff man she’d very briefly worked with on those two cases, with the man Jimmy spoke of. Despite the frustration that colored his words, she could tell that Jimmy was hopeful that Gibbs would step back up to the plate where her boss was concerned. Well, she admitted to herself, Tony did tend to inspire devotion - even if he was not aware of it. She was trying to figure out a way to get the Director out of that office, and she knew that Tony truly hadn’t believed Ziva at the scene - and if he knew they were serious, he would do everything in his power to stop them. Not because he trusted the Director (Michelle was pretty sure he didn’t) but because he ‘wouldn’t want you to risk your careers. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Leave it alone,’ and he’d give one of his rare direct orders to them. ‘Leave it alone. That’s an order,’ he’d say, face deadly serious, showing that side that made him one of the best investigators at NCIS. (Michelle had investigated her team after she’d been assigned to them in the hopes of better understanding her unconventional team. It hadn’t helped her understand McGee’s geek speak and freak outs, Ziva’s constant threats and terrible driving, or Tony’s movie quotes and the frat boy persona she’d heard about but not really ever seen, but it had given her a deep appreciation for the three of them as a well-oiled machine, and of Tony as a top-notch investigator, under-cover agent, and interrogator.) Michelle was pretty sure that it was Tony’s father who’d left him with some deep-seated insecurities, and Agent Gibbs’ abrupt departure, and more abrupt return certainly hadn’t helped matters. He didn’t think he was worth it, never mind the fact that his whole team would do almost anything to keep him safe. And safe, in their eyes, meant whole physically as well as emotionally. She sighed gustily, and Jimmy squeezed her shoulders briefly as they walked.

She looked up at him, and he shrugged. “Tony has always been nice to me. I mean, he teased me horribly when I started, but one day I was in the break room, and I realized that he was only like that with the team - that to other people, he was friendly but didn’t let them in. And it put the teasing in a whole different light. God forbid we do something so un-manly as to admit we like each other,” Jimmy made a face, “but when he calls me ‘Autopsy Gremlin’, as cheesy as it sounds, I know that’s what he’s saying. And I don’t know if you noticed - if you can read him well enough to know - but every time the team compared him negatively to Gibbs, it really bothered him - because he admires Gibbs, yes, but mostly because he doesn’t want to be Gibbs, you know? He’s Tony, and that ought to have been enough for them. Gibbs is scary, but Tony . . . sometimes I think he’s more scary, because most of the time he makes you forget that he’s been an investigator longer than anyone, including Gibbs, and that he’s damn good at what he does. And Tony really cares about the cases, the victims - usually people like that have already burned out, but he manages to walk that line. But Tony is dangerous, too. Maybe even more so than Ziva, ‘cause you look at her and you _know_ she’s dangerous, but Tony, you wouldn’t see it until it was way too late.” He wrinkled his nose, and Michelle tried hard not to think it was adorable. “Sorry. I’m rambling a bit. Gibbs just doesn’t seem to be the same man he was. I’m wondering, and I think Ducky is too, if the damage hasn’t healed all the way yet.”

Michelle sighed, and slipped her arm around Jimmy’s waist in a brief hug. They walked in silence a bit further, having detoured to walk along the Potomac. Tony had showed her this spot early on in her time with the team; he’d recommended it as a good place to sit and think. She didn’t come down to the benches often, but she and Jimmy did try to schedule a ‘coffee break’ out here at least once a week. She looked toward her favorite bench, jaw dropping as she noted Tobias Fornell striding away, and Agent - what should she call him? - Gibbs sitting, staring at his coffee cup like it might hold the answers of the universe inside. “Jimmy,” she hissed, “there’s Gibbs. Lets go behind the bench - it doesn’t look like he wants to be disturbed, and I don’t want another confrontation with him.”

Jimmy nodded, and they meandered around behind the bench, headed back to NCIS. Several seconds later, Gibbs rushed past them, not seeming to notice them as he slowed to a brisk walk and entered the building. Exchanging a bemused look, she and Jimmy headed inside as well, and split up, Jimmy taking the stairs down to Autopsy and Michelle walking up to the bull-pen, which seemed as good a place as any to meet the team.

She had been sitting at her desk, debating trying Abby’s lab, for less than a minute when her team (and she still got a thrill thinking that – Michelle Lee, legal aid extraordinaire, on a _team_. Of _Agents._ ) returned, probably from Abby’s lab, given the state of McGee’s shirt, and the way Tony’s shirt was rumpled.

“Lee and Ziva, you go together to pick up Ms. Simons. Ziva, fill Michelle in on the case as you go. Try not to break any traffic laws, please - especially with Ms. Simons in the car,” Tony said to both of them, as they grabbed go-bags and Ziva grabbed keys. “McGee, I want you to work on those old police and court reports, as well as the file when it comes in. I’m going to Quantico to speak with the CO and anyone else I can get my hands on.”

Ziva hunched her shoulders a bit at that, and Michelle agreed. The idea of Tony, who attracted trouble like no other, going off on his own to chat with a bunch of marines when they had NO idea what had happened to their vic, was more than a little disconcerting. “Ah, boss?” McGee. Bless him. “Boss, most of those files will take a while to get here, and I can access the ones online from my laptop in the car. Maybe I should come with you?”

Tony closed his eyes briefly, and sighed. “The rest of you want McGee with me as well, don’t you.”

Ziva nodded. “Yes. Tony, you attract trouble like honey attracts . . . whatever it attracts. McGee doesn’t. Maybe if you are together, it will lessen the amount of trouble coming your way?”

Michelle grinned a bit at that. “Plus, Boss, Agent McGee pretty much declared his undying wish to watch your six earlier. Could you really deprive him of that?”

They all gaped at her for a moment, before Tony chuckled, slightly ruefully. “I’m beginning to think we might regret the day we helped you find that spine. Okay. McGee will be coming with me to Quantico. McGee, grab your ge - “

“On it, Boss,” McGee grinned. “And my lap-top.”

As they all piled into the elevator, Tony’s phone shrilled. Muttering something about “the damn thing never shutting up,” he pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the name on the screen before snapping it open. “Fornell,” he greeted. “This is unquestionably not a FBI case. What the hell do you want?”

There was silence while they all tried to pretend they weren’t staring at Tony in confusion. His face cycled through a few emotions so quickly Michelle couldn’t identify them, and then he pursed his lips and made a considering noise in the back of his throat. He started to say something, and fell silent again, presumably listening to Fornell again. The elevator door opened, and they all stepped out, Tony still on the phone, listening to what sounded like a fairly long rant.

“Right,” he finally said as they parted ways. “I’ll be bringing McGee.”

Ziva’s head snapped back in alarm, and she and McGee exchanged a quick glance that Michelle was pretty sure went like this “You need me to go all ninja-chick?” “No, I think I got it covered. Why’s Fornell calling him for a meet?” “No idea.” They both looked at her, and she shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Okay, thanks.” Tony hung up, and looked startled to see them all still there. “Go on! Ziva, I promise it’s not dangerous. Lee, you’ll still have a team lead at the end of the day. McGee, you’re with me all day long. I may have a project for you all when we get back, once we solve the case.”

Grudgingly, she and Ziva moved off to pick up their sedan. Michelle took quick stock of the tension in Ziva’s frame and the way she was moving like a predator again, and decided to buckle up and stay silent. Maybe pray. It was going to be a long car ride.


End file.
